I Remember
by wannatacoboutbooks
Summary: When teenagers are suddenly dying in suspicious house fires, John allows Caleb to take Dean (20) to investigate the most recent death. John and Sam (16) are left to their own devices. What could possibly go wrong? Pre-series! Fem!Sam (Sorry if you don't like that but please don't write hate comments.) I don't want to reveal too much here…Just read if you want to know what happens.
1. Prologue

**I'm so sorry. I'm horrible at coming up with titles and summaries. That's just the way it is. This story is one of those ideas that gets in your brain and you kind of don't think it's that great but you have to write it anyway because it's stuck in there.**

I Remember

Prologue

The girl angrily slammed her bedroom door, not bothering to turn her lights on as she practically threw herself onto her bed. She quickly pulled her pillow to her face, muffling an infuriated scream in the cramped room. The scream soon faded into a whimper though, and she quickly sat up, angry now at herself for crying. It was something she hadn't allowed herself to do in years. She did nothing to stop the tears that left tracks on her cheeks though. The pain in her chest craved her attention, and the sobs seemed to be her only current option to ease the tension she could feel there. The teen ran a hand through her messy brown curls, brushing her bangs away from her face in the process with a sigh. She shivered, suddenly cold despite the late-spring heat that had forced her to wear a camisole to bed for the past week.

Glancing out at the moonlight, she briefly wondered how she had allowed her current situation to get so out of control. Her gaze moved to the alarm clock, which displayed the time, 10:32, in faintly lit red print. Rubbing away the last remnants of her tears with her hands, the teen curled up under the covers, letting sleep wash over her even though she dreaded what the morning would bring.

2:47 was the time the clock, which now seemed mockingly bright in the darkness, glared at her. She groaned quietly, not really understanding why she was still awake. All she knew was that the wall unit in her room, while performing its task of blasting cold air, had suddenly decided to make a sound so grating that the teen decided it could only be seconded by the sound of nails on a chalkboard. She'd gone over to the machine, and hit it on the side. The sound had stopped, but as she'd tried to fall asleep once again, she'd found that she couldn't. Now she glared back at the clock, tempted to hurl the offensive object out the window situated just above the wall unit. She turned over bitterly, burying herself in her blankets and forcing her eyes to close. Just as she was dozing off once more, another sound startled her awake. This time, she dare not move. This sound was different. It was the sound of her window opening, and what sounded like someone slipping through. It sent chills down her spine, and she briefly prayed that she was simply imagining things. Slowly, silently, she slid her arm over the edge of the bed, reaching toward the bedside table. Just as her fingertips skimmed the edge of the wood, an invisible force yanked her from the bed and onto the floor.

Her wide eyes roamed quickly, searching for the unseen assailant, but before she could spot anything she found herself sliding into the wall and quickly rising into a standing position. she tried to cry out as her head connected painfully with the wall, but her throat suddenly felt constricted; as if something was holding it closed. Her gasp of surprise was also muted as her body began sliding up the wall, and it wasn't long before she found herself staring down fearfully from the ceiling. Terror seized her thin frame, and she struggled to scream as a girl who couldn't have been much older than herself grinned up at her from below. "Hello Darling," she sneered, her eyes changing from brown to a soulless black in a single blink. "Let's have a little fun, shall we?" The teen on the ceiling felt her throat open again as the one on the floor waved her hand across the air in an arc, and the scream she'd so desperately wished to release earlier came tearing from her throat in a mixture of pure agony and fear as her abdomen was cruelly slashed. The black-eyed girl never lost her grin as she closed the teen's throat once more, muffling the sobs and further screams. The night was not over yet, and she could hardly wait to see the anguish she was about create with a simple flame.

 **DUN. DUN. DUN. Welcome to my story. :) This is my first Supernatural story, so I figured, "Why not start things off like a typical episode?" That my dear friends is what created this prologue. In case you're wondering why I have decided to make Sam a girl for this story, I have two reasons. First, the story in my head just happened to play out that way. Second, I guess I kind of like the idea of Dean with a little sister, so I thought I'd play around with the idea a bit. More will come soon, but I'd love to know what you think. Thanks for checking this out.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Here we are. Happy reading. :)**

Chapter 1

Dean Winchester had always known how to pack efficiently. It was a skill that had been impressed on him since some of his earliest memories. Yet today, the twenty year old found himself moving slower. He took his time loading up his duffel, using the excuse that he hadn't slept well the night before. For once, his father hadn't questioned him on his poor attempt at a lie. The man understood as well as he did how close to home this hunt was hitting. Dean sighed, secretly wishing that John hadn't picked up the phone the night before, or better yet, that Caleb hadn't called in the first place. Any activity that seemed even remotely related to the monster that had killed Mary Winchester was crucial though, and Dean knew that Caleb would never deny John the chance to get his revenge.

This situation was unlike anything Dean or his father had ever dealt with before though, and that made the young hunter nervous. This monster, which had seemed to only ever stick to the same patterns, rarely even showing up on the Winchesters' radar, had suddenly changed targets. Teenagers were suddenly dying in odd house fires across four states, and all the evidence and witness statements pointed to the thing that had originally killed Dean's mother. A chill ran down his spine when he thought about the sudden change, his real reason for taking his time while packing walking into his room and flopping down on his bed with a disgruntled huff.

"This is wrong," Sam complained, her tone falling just short of a childish whine. "We should _all_ be going after this thing. If it's the thing that killed Mom then we should be sticking together."

"Complaining isn't going to change anything, Sammy," Dean replied tiredly, dropping a couple of knives into his bag. "You know how Dad is. Once he has his mind set on something it would take an earthquake to make him change it." The girl growled in frustration from her position on the bed.

"This is stupid though. I know Caleb's a great hunter and all, but Dad shouldn't be sending you off to investigate this latest death while he sits here safe." Dean zipped up his duffel, shoving it aside as he glanced down at his little sister. She was sprawled across his bed sideways, her long legs dangling off one side and her head nearly hanging off the other. He tried, for her sake, to stop seeing the chubby two year old who clung to his shirt when she got scared laying there, but it was hard not to. He sat down beside her head with a sigh, running his hand through his short, light hair.

"Six people have died, Sam," he started. "People _your_ age. Do you really think Dad's going to let you out of his sight?" The girl didn't answer, but the way her gaze shifted away from his made him frown. She and John had been getting into more fights lately, and each one seemed to be getting progressively worse than the last. "Besides," he continued, choosing not to bring up their mangled family life. "This thing never strikes in the same town twice. Someone has to stay here and be prepared to move if we hear of another death." Sam still refused to meet his gaze, her head gently inclining to lean against the side of his knee.

"But why can't _you_ stay here? If he's worried about _me_ getting involved then he should be worried about you too." Dean resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair again. He knew she was trying to make up an excuse for him to stay. This justification was just a cover for the fact that she didn't want to be left alone with their father though. John Winchester loved his children, but Dean had witnessed the tension between his sister and their father firsthand. He and Sam both knew it couldn't go on forever. One day the tension would become too much, and the siblings dreaded what would happen when it did. Dean absentmindedly began to card his fingers through Sam's light brown hair, offering her what little comfort he could before Caleb's arrival.

"Can you at least try not to kill each other while I'm gone?" he quietly joked, earning a half-hearted chuckle.

"No promises," she murmured in response, finally meeting his green eyes again with her hazel ones. "You think you can give Dad the same stirring speech?" The corner of Dean's mouth lifted in a half-smile as he gently ruffled Sam's hair.

"I don't know," he remarked as he stood up. "It was pretty hard coming up with that one, Sammy. We can't all be brainiacs like you, you know."

"It's Sam," she insisted as she sat up, attempting to fix her hair only to have it ruffled again by her brother's calloused hand. "Jerk," she huffed, quickly smoothing her hair as she stood beside him.

"Whatever you say, Bitch," he replied, watching her disappear down the hallway of the run-down house they were renting. The young hunter swung his bag over his shoulder, heading down the stairs to grab a bite to eat before he would have to leave. He knew he most likely wouldn't be talking to Sam again until he returned. Neither one of them were very good at goodbyes, so he knew the conversation they just had had served as one. When Dean got downstairs, John was scanning their wall of pinned-up articles and photos, scribbling in his journal as he stood there.

"All packed?" the man asked as he closed the leather-bound journal.

"Yes Sir," Dean answered, setting his duffel down on the floor. "Where'd you put the info on the latest victim?" Dean couldn't be sure, but he swore to himself that his father had winced when the question was asked. That made him even more nervous. His father had always been unshakeable. The only times he hadn't seemed stone cold had been when he was with his children. As young children, they had seen a side of him the world never did; a tenderness that had slowly been broken down by time and grief. Now the only moments of weakness that seemed to show through John Winchester's stoic armor came when one or both of them was in danger, and almost every instinct Dean possessed was screaming at him to tell his father to drop this case and move on. That small part of him knew how important this could be though as he took the manila folder from his father's hands. It was the chance of a lifetime; a chance to let Sam have a normal life like she had always wanted, and a chance for their family to finally have some peace.

Bethany Milton's smiling face haunted Dean from the newspaper clipping in the front of the folder. He now understood why his father had flinched. The girl was beautiful, and had long, blonde hair. Her blue eyes and dimples lit up her face the same way Sam's could light up any room she walked into. Even the small nose and pointed chin seemed eerily similar to his baby sister's. The young hunter closed the folder. He had seen enough.

"Dad," he started. "Why can't we just-"

"No Dean. I know what you're thinking, but we can't just give this to someone else. It's too important. I know you're worried about Sam, and I won't lie to you, I am too. We can't lose our heads though, Dean. At least two of the victims lost their mothers the same way you lost yours, so we have to-"

"Wait. What!" Dean exclaimed in shock, pacing the room briefly as he ran his hands through his hair. Dean let slip a nearly hysterical laugh as he turned to face his father once more. "And let me guess: you didn't think this would have been important information for me to know before I left!"

"Listen to me, Dean. I didn't tell you because I knew once you heard this you wouldn't want to go, but I _need_ you to do this for me. We need all hands on deck for this. I would go myself, believe me, but we need an experienced hunter on each side of this. If something happens…" Dean watched in an almost fascinated horror as his father trailed off, running his hand over his face with a care-worn sigh. For the first time since he had been a child, his father seemed genuinely stressed. He noticed the dark circles under the older man's eyes for the first time, and he knew. For once, his father wasn't ordering him to do something. He was pleading.

"What about Sam?" Dean finally asked quietly. "You know she wants to help." John nodded, his head suddenly seeming too heavy for his neck.

"I know, and I'll let her…but only as much as I think she can handle. I'll tell her she should focus more on her schoolwork if she tries to go to far. That'll keep her happy." Dean couldn't help the frown that overtook his face when he heard those words. John was just as worried about being left alone with Sam as she was with him. Before Dean could say anything else though, they heard Caleb's truck pull into the rental's short driveway. John's eyes locked with Dean's for a moment, his silence speaking louder than any cautions he could verbally give his son. They both knew what would happen to Sam if he didn't come back, and that scared them both more than death itself.

Sam walked over to her bedroom window when she heard the truck pull up. Caleb got out as her father and brother went out to meet him, and the man waved up at her from the ground after shaking their hands. She forced a sad smile onto her face as she gently waved back, noticing her father avoiding looking up at her in the window. The teen sighed heavily as the men conversed briefly and then she moved out of view as her father turned to head back into the house. She moved back into view and met her brother's eyes from a distance. His look was comforting, and his eyes seemed to be trying to tell her that everything would be alright. After the truck pulled away though, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She knew there were things about this case she hadn't been told, and as hard as Dean had tried, he'd been unable to completely mask the touch of fear in his eyes.

The thought sent a shudder through her body, and she pulled her knees impossibly closer to her chest. She knew that if Dean was scared, their father must have been too. The girl bit her lip, dreading the time she would have to spend with her father because she knew the truth. Some days, it felt like a crushing weight, and sometimes, like now, it drew tears from her eyes. The truth was her father wasn't really frightened for her. She knew that fear had left him long ago. Dean had always been the perfect child. She had fought John every step of the way. No. He didn't fear losing his daughter. What John Winchester really feared the most was that if something happened to her, he would lose Dean, and there would be no going back.

 **Wow. I went back and read this…It's pretty angsty for a first chapter. (Not very long either now that I think about it.) Please tell me what you think. I've never written a story for this fandom before, and this one just wouldn't leave my brain alone until I wrote it so feedback would be appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Another chapter. Hope you like it.**

Chapter 2

Sam's hand shot out from under the covers to shut off her alarm clock, goosebumps rising on her arm in protest to leaving the warmth of her blanket cocoon. The teen groaned. Their first night without Dean had come and gone without a fight, but it had been so awkwardly silent that Sam almost wished her father would get angry at her just so he would say _something_. The girl shivered as she threw off her covers, not understanding how her room could be nearly smothering her as she tried to sleep, but frozen when she woke up in the morning. She quickly got ready for the day, relieved that she would be able to escape John's odd silence once she left for school. He didn't really know what time she had to be at school. That had always been Dean's job, so he never really bothered to remember things like that. She could grab something out the fridge to eat, walk to school early, and her father wouldn't know the difference.

As Sam descended the stairs though, she noticed a horrible, burnt smell coming from the kitchen; promptly accompanied by muttered swearing from her father. She moved slowly into the room, silently watching her father attempting to wash out a blackened pan, and glancing at the smoke rising from the nearby garbage can. Her gaze shot back to her father as she heard him sigh and lean against the edge of the sink. He looked so much older than he actually was, and the look was so foreign to Sam that she almost ran back up the stairs to leave through the window so she wouldn't have to face him like that. Something kept her still though, and it wasn't long before she found herself stepping further into the room.

"Dad?" she ventured. "What are you doing?" John looked back at her as if he had forgotten she was even in the house with him, but he quickly cleared his throat.

"I figured I'd make some breakfast," he said quietly, gesturing to the stove. "Seeing as your brother's not here to eat everything before we get to it." Sam took a skeptical look around the kitchen, and then turned that same look on her father.

"Do I want to know what you were trying to make?" There was an audible pause.

"Probably not."

Sam met her father's tired gaze, and without really meaning to, a smile pulled at her cheeks. The laughter that followed that smile came involuntarily as well, and the teen found herself covering her chin with her hands as she tried to contain it. The moment was over too quickly though. She'd noticed the sad and embarrassed smile John had on his own face, and it was suddenly as if she remembered that there hadn't been a moment like that between them in over two years. She swallowed awkwardly, and the uncomfortable atmosphere from the previous night seemed to move back in like a dark cloud.

"I should…I should probably get to school now," Sam said quietly, reaching down to throw her bag over her shoulder.

"Just give me a moment to finish clearing this up and I'll take you." Sam froze in the doorway. Dean had always taken her to school wherever they were, but there had been days when she'd had to go on her own.

"It's fine. I can walk on my own. I know the way."

John grabbed a towel, quickly drying his hands as he spoke distractedly. "You haven't eaten anything and there's a diner not too far from here," he told her, grabbing his jacket. "Besides, you don't really have to be at school for another hour and a half." The man grabbed his keys, and Sam went down the front steps to the waiting Impala in a state of shock. John Winchester _never_ paid any attention to what time she had to be in school no matter where they lived, and he never offered to drive her; not even when Dean was sick. He had only driven them until the day Dean got his license, and even back then he had never seemed very happy to do it. Sam frowned as she got in the car though.

Dean had most likely told their father the correct time and ordered the man to drive her to school. Her brother never disobeyed an order from their father, but the young man had also never been afraid to let John know that taking care of his baby sister was basically what he lived to do. John hadn't felt the need to remind Dean to take care of Sam since she was a toddler, and as she watched her father stir his coffee across the table from her, the lightheartedness her father's breakfast blunder had made her feel drifted away. The roles were switching. As her father paid less attention to her and argued with her whenever he did, Dean tried harder to make up for it. It left her feeling unwanted though. John and Dean seemed to her to be in this far off adult loop, and she was never allowed to cross into it.

"Any tests today?"

"No Sir," Sam mumbled, not really bothering to look up from where she was pushing around her eggs with her fork. She watched him nod out the corner of her eye, and she ignored how he fidgeted before he spoke again.

"Anything else going on at school?" Sam shrugged with one shoulder. She hunched over a bit more in her seat, hoping to convey to her father that she wasn't in the mood for the awkward conversation he was trying to fill the silence with. She forced herself to eat a couple more bites of her eggs, and then she put down her fork and sighed.

"You ok, kiddo?" Sam finally met her father's eyes, but quickly looked down again to hide her surprise at the question.

"I'm just not that hungry, Sir. I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night either and-"

"Well you could stay home and get some rest…maybe help me do some research…" John offered, never having considered schooling very important.

"No," Sam replied, a little too fast. "I…I mean…no, Sir. I need to be in class today to make sure I don't miss anything important." John eyed her for a moment, but Sam couldn't really identify the look on his face. Finally, he nodded, pulling out his wallet as he stood up to go pay their bill. The teen felt a sudden twinge of guilt. There was no way her father had _not_ noticed her desire to be away from him, and the feeling that brought her made her want to hide under the diner's old, wooden table for the rest of the day. Once the two of them were back in the Impala, the fog of silence between them was so thick it would take a knife to cut it, and the teen felt like leaping from the car by the time John pulled up to the local high school.

"I should be back by 4:30," she said quickly as she stepped out of the car. Sam moved to close the door, but her father's voice stopped her as he leaned across the seat to speak.

"I thought classes let out at three?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. Sam hesitated, and when she did speak she mumbled her words out quickly, avoiding John's eyes. "What was that?"

"I…You see…There's this club meeting after school till about four, but sometimes the meetings run overtime, and it takes a while for me to-"

"Sam," her father interrupted, his firm tone putting an instant stop to her rambling. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Here it comes._ She stared down at her father, prepared for the argument that was about to take place. The man wasn't looking back at her though. His gaze seemed far away, as if he were considering what he was going to say to her. When he finally met her gaze, she could see the disapproval in the man's eyes; disapproval that became worse when she heard it in his voice as he spoke. "I'll be here at four," was all he said. Then he straightened in his seat, and Sam found herself closing the door out of habit, her mind flying in a million different directions as she watched the Impala pull away from the curb and turn right at the corner of the school. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she walked up the front steps. Her father's lack of verbal protest, despite his clear displeasure, was unheard of. Although she would never admit it, the thought set her on edge. Clearly the situation was more serious than she had been led to believe. This wasn't just the hunt for the thing that had killed Mary Winchester and was now killing people her age. There was more to it than that, and deep down Sam knew it had something to do with her.

* * *

John quickly parked along the side of the school where Sam couldn't see him, and he watched from the window until the door to the main building swung closed behind her. He ran a hand through his hair out of stress, the father in him telling him how stupid he was being. He knew his son would have his head on a stake if he knew that he was allowing Sam to stay out of his sight for any longer than the required school hours. However, John could also see the sadness in his daughter's eyes. He'd watched it grow and fester for months, and it had frustrated him to the point where all he could do with her attitude was respond with anger. It killed him that she didn't feel like she could tell him what seemed to be bothering her so much, but he also couldn't help but feel like he had only himself to blame for that.

Dean had always been the one who listened to her. He had stayed after school to let her spend more time with kids her age and had given John stern looks when the man had snapped at her or been too harsh with her. John shook his head and shifted the car into gear. He'd admit he'd always been harder on Sam when it came to training her to be a hunter, and perhaps that was part of the reason she'd become so distant. With each passing day though, his baby girl was beginning to resemble her mother in both looks and attitude. Some days he found he could barely look at her or hear her speak without thinking of what they'd lost, and that made it imperative that Sam know everything she possibly could about hunting. He knew if he lost her too, it would kill him, and he hated to think about what it would do to Dean. That was the other reason he was letting her stay. As much as he hated the idea he knew he couldn't afford to fight with her; not when they were in such a precarious position. He had to ensure they both remained vigilant, and anger would only cloud their judgement.

"Better you cry than me," the man murmured to himself as he turned at the corner. Sam could hate him for the rest of her life if she wanted to, but as long as she was still living, he knew life could go on.

 **Well. That was _supposed_ to have Dean in it…but this just sort of happened. Hehe…This story isn't really about Dean I guess. I'm not totally ditching him though. I love him. Don't fret. I promise. :) Anyway, in case you're wondering, the phrase John says at the end is something my dad always used to say when he was telling me to be careful going out places in high school. I'm not sure where it originated from, but it's meant to mean "better you be upset with me for not letting you do something than have me crying because something happened to you." Just some food for thought there. I feel like John's motivations aren't explored enough, and I've read too many stories where he's either insanely abusive or he's actually ****_too_** **kind. To me, that doesn't add up with the man we encounter while watching the show. Hopefully, I'm capturing something in between those two extremes (because that's kind of my goal) with this story, because the way I'm writing him is the way I understand him to think in the show. He's rough on both his kids, but his fear of losing them takes priority over him worrying about how they feel and he can come across as cruel and uncaring. (Granted though, he does make some pretty bad decisions as a father, and I'm willing to admit that at times he does seem to put his obsession before his kids. That doesn't change my opinion though.) That's just my theory, and I'd love to hear some of yours. So let me know what you think about this chapter and maybe tell me about some of your own theories. I'd love to read them. Thanks for reading this story. Until next chapter. :)**


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